


The Flayed Confessional

by abirdwhowritesthings



Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abirdwhowritesthings/pseuds/abirdwhowritesthings
Summary: Ashley sees Sydney in the Cathedral and experiences emotions.
Relationships: Sydney Losstarot/Ashley Riot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Flayed Confessional

Ashley stared up the final flight of stairs. He could sense the Dark writhing around, sense the end coming close. All he had to do was take these steps and he would finally be able to find Merlose - and, he hoped, also find answers.

"Uh...hhh..."

A pained groan from upstairs caught his attention and he began his ascent. The upper floor of the cathedral was covered in a giant Rood Inverse surrounded by lit candles; the air smelled of smoke intwined with the coppery scent of blood. To Ashley's left lay Sydney, the blond, beautiful, enigmatic man who had so taunted him, who he had thought an enemy for so long. Seeing Sydney like this now, laying in a puddle of his own blood, made it impossible to hate him, or even to be angry. The sight of Sydney called back memories of fighting Grissom together, of the prophet's apparent belief in him, a belief which Ashley had thought - or hoped - might mean some kind of fondness. After all, Sydney had never tried to kill him. Not really. Sydney had tested him, for sure, but Ashley knew that if Sydney had wanted him dead, he would be. Ashley was a skilled fighter, a skilled Riskbreaker, but Sydney was immortal, and no man could stand up to an immortal foe.

Sydney was not the enemy.

Ashley closed the distance between them as Sydney lifted a trembling hand. "What's this?" he said, his voice more gruff than intended, but he relied on that gruffness now to not give way to the feelings that were rising in his head.

"You're late, Riskbreaker," responded the wounded prophet, whose eyes closed when Ashley touched his shoulder. It seemed that even someone as seemingly distant from human emotion as Sydney could still be comforted by human touch.

"Where's Merlose? What happened to Callo Merlose?"

"Worry not," Sydney sighed. "I sent her to a safe place. She will escape... unharmed."

He slowly sat up, braced by Ashley's strength, so that Ashley could see the rent, bloody flesh of his back where a tattoo used to be. Ashley, distracted from his line of questioning about his kidnapped partner, stared at the other man's back in disgust. "What has happened here?"

Sydney grunted in pain once more as he shifted to give Ashley a better view. "...look, and know."

It was difficult enough for Ashley to take his eyes off the wound - that is, until the shade of a little boy, who Ashley knew to be Sydney's soul, appeared in the room. Standing in the center of the Rood and the candles, the boy spoke what Sydney couldn't: _I wanted to help Father. This city was his only hope..._

Forgetting his pain momentarily, the real Sydney - the solid one - looked over his shoulder at Ashley's diverted attention. "You can see..."

_I wanted to help father, as he helped me when I was born._

Sydney leaned back against Ashley's strong arms once more, closing his eyes as he continued the tale of what lead them up to this. "He wanted the city destroyed, even if it meant his own death. Then he implored me... do not let them use it... the power." He lifted a cold, clawed hand, placed it on Ashley's thigh, and looked up at him again. Ashley resisted the urge to move in closer, focusing on the words. Just the words. If he let his attention slide away from the words, to Sydney's eyes, or, Gods forbid, his parted lips, all would be lost.

"Stop him..." Sydney commanded. "Stop Guildenstern. Those who crave the Dark cannot control the Dark. You must stop him, kill him... Before the Dark sucks his living soul dry."

"Where is he?" Ashley murmured, a crack in his voice betraying the emotion he struggled to keep locked away.

Sydney made no further sound, other than the clink of his metal fingers as he pointed upward, toward the ceiling. He held for a moment, then his arm clattered to the ground and he leaned further against Ashley. "Ashley, I... I'm..."

"I know," Ashley whispered. But he didn't know. _Dying? Sorry?_

He hoped for the latter, because he didn't want Sydney to die. He didn't want to believe that Sydney _could_ die, that this wasn't merely a flesh wound, that it had been the tattoo giving Sydney his power. He'd wanted to share wine with him, damn it, wanted to make new memories.

"Go, Ashley, leave me," Sydney looked away, sighing. "Go kill Guildenstern. His lover is up there with him... and if you're fast enough, you may just save her... you may prevent the tragedy you think you lived..."

"Sydney--"

"Go, Ashley!"

"Fine. I'm going." Sydney looked at him then, as if hurt - as if some part of him wanted Ashley to stay - but that expression clouded quickly, his grey eyes becoming blank.

It was now or never, Ashley decided, and leaned in so that his lips could touch Sydney's. Sydney reciprocated, but only briefly, and when Ashley pulled back, the prophet's eyes remained expressionless. He couldn't tell if he was imagining a hint of a smile lingering on Sydney's lips, or if it was real. "I'm going, Sydney..." Ashley swallowed hard as he stood up. "But I'll be back. I'll come back for you, and I'll help you. I swear it."

Sydney didn't respond. He closed his eyes and sighed; whether it was pain or pleasure, Ashley couldn't tell. He turned away from the prophet, hand on the hilt of his blade, and headed toward the route that would take him upward. He had to make short work of this Guildenstern so he could get back to Sydney. Perhaps, once Sydney was recovered, they could share wine and make memories.

For now, he cherished the memory of that kiss. It was the one happy thing he could believe was real.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm out of the habit of writing, and I find the easiest way to get back into it is to borrow heavily from canon and interject my own interpretations and thoughts. Also, the need to write something about this scene was burning in me ever since I finished Vagrant Story.


End file.
